


#37 - Flame is Burning

by angelsandbrowncoats



Series: Eurovision 2017 Fanfic Challenge [7]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Hospitals, M/M, Overuse Of Parentheses, Protests, don't read if ur gonna get mad about that stuff, mentions of pro-life pro-choice argument, planned parenthood support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 23:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10864752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: Combeferre is injured during a protest and Les Amis (mostly Courf) wait and worry to hear news of his condition.Eurovision 2017 Fanfic Challenge - each story is based on a song and will be released in order of my song rankings.





	#37 - Flame is Burning

**Author's Note:**

> I started the challenge before Russia dropped out, so I figured I'd leave them in.

Courfeyrac didn't hate hospitals. Seriously. He had met his half-sister in a hospital. His best friend turned boyfriend _worked_ in a hospital for God's sake. Most of his memories of the bright white walls involved picking up Combeferre for a movie or ice cream or dinner. All quite happy memories.

Today, however, he found no comfort in the polished metal surfaces and the biting clean scent. He paced from one end of the waiting room to the other, stopping on occasion to buy more candy out of the vending machine (he was perfectly aware that stress eating was a bad habit, thank you very much).

As usual, he was here for Combeferre. Less usual, Combeferre was the patient, not the doctor. The complete _idiot_ had gone and gotten himself stabbed at a protest. _Three times_. And if that weren't bad enough, he'd done a patch job of stitching the wounds, telling himself that as he was a doctor and knew what he was doing, he'd be fine to continue protesting for another four hours. Courfeyrac was going to have words with Enjolras about the fanaticism that seemed to be spreading. He intended to have words with Combeferre, too, once he was sure his boyfriend would be conscious enough (he ignored the voice in his head that said _alive enough_ ) to hear him.

He thought back to the protest. Les Amis had been separated relatively early on, Enjolras finding a podium to shout from (naturally) and the rest dispersing through the crowd to spread pamphlets and start chants. It was an anti-anti-Planned Parenthood rally, something Combeferre felt strongly about ("Look, I _work_ in a hospital, and let me tell you, many of my colleagues, intelligent as they might be, are too stuck on tradition to identify many problems early enough to cure them. Planned Parenthood provides experts who are _willing_ to listen. They do so much more than abortion, which is the _only_ problem anyone seems to have with them, not that I take issue with it myself.")

Combeferre had already gotten into two heated arguments over the subject, and Courfeyrac (who had still been near him at the time) was impressed by his ability to resist shouting insults. He stuck to structured debates, no matter what his opponents said to or of him, giving an endless supply of facts and evidence to support his points. It was safe to say he didn't get far with the other side.

Not long after, Courfeyrac had gotten caught up in a slightly raunchy parody of "I Love Rock and Roll" (it had begun as "I Love Good Healthcare" and devolved from there). The group of singers, some of whom Courfeyrac recognized from his classes, had moved off and he had followed. It was sometime after this that, according to his dazed account, Combeferre had seen one of the "Pro-Life" protesters get knocked down. No one on the other side appeared to have noticed, and the person was in danger of being trampled, so Combeferre had jumped both barriers to pull them back up. When he turned to leave, one of the people he'd been arguing with before had been there. Shouting something about doing the lord's work, the reactionary stabbed him thrice in the stomach.

Combeferre stumbled away from the protest in order to stitch the wounds in peace, knowing that the man's stabs had been random and, from what he could tell, unlikely to be fatal. Once they were stitched and haphazardly sterilized, he used his undershirt as a makeshift bandage, hiding it beneath his shirt and jacket (because he knew, Courfeyrac fumed mentally, that if any of Les Amis caught him, they'd make him leave. He _knew_ he was being an idiot). Then he returned to his original spot, continuing to shout facts across the gap between the two sides.

A few hours later, both sides were dwindling down to the most devoted supporters, and most of Les Amis had regrouped.

"You've all done admirably," Enjolras was saying, "We've gotten the signatures for our petition, at least twelve individuals expressed an interest in attending our meetings, and three separate people admitted to switching to our side because of our work today. Good job, everyone. As agreed upon, tonight's meeting will _not_ discuss future plans. Tonight, we celebr-"

Enjolras broke off as Combeferre collapsed. Les Amis, who had all been watching their leader, turned almost as one and between Courfeyrac and Feuilly, who had been closest, they caught him before he hit the pavement.

Amidst the various shouts of, "Ferre!" and, "-the fuck?" and, "Holy shit, man, are you alright?" Joly, the groups other doctor, reached Combeferre's side. He examined the injuries while Combeferre coughed out his tale, muttering to himself about different possible issues from infection to internal bleeding.

"Somebody call an ambulance, he needs a hospital _immediately_ ," Joly called out when Combeferre's eyes rolled back and he passed out. Courfeyrac honestly couldn't remember if he had been the one to call or not. Probably not. He was pretty sure he'd been frozen in shock.

Now here he was, two hours later, waiting for news of Combeferre from the Emergency Room. The rest of Les Amis had agreed to head to the cafeteria for food, considering most of them had missed a real lunch and dinner. Courfeyrac refused to join them, only nodding absently when Bossuet promised to bring some back. Enjolras hadn't wanted to leave either, but he had been too lost in thought to remember to argue and Bahorel had dragged him along. Courfeyrac supported that decision, since he'd at least gotten a corn dog around 1 p.m. but he was pretty sure Enj hadn't eaten since the scones they'd shared early that morning.

"Courfeyrac?"

Courfeyrac spun around to see a nurse he'd spoken to a few times while waiting for Combeferre's shift to finished.

"Yes?"

"You're here for Combeferre, I presume?"

"Is he going to be okay?"

The nurse took a deep breath and Courfeyrac could feel himself holding his own.

"He has not woken up, and we are not sure how long it will take him. There is a possibility, however small, that he may never wake."

_No, no this was all wrong, this wasn't_

"However, his condition appears to be stable. If he had done a poorer job of treating his injuries or had waited any longer for proper medical care, he may not have made it. As it is, his wounds will heal, albeit slowly, and we have found no signs of brain damage from either the fall or the blood loss."

Courfeyrac let out the breath. There was still hope. He asked quietly, "How likely is it that he... won't wake up?"

"Extremely unlikely. Many people in similar situations can take anywhere from hours to about a week. A lot of people wake up quickly, which is why we want you to be prepared for the worst, but there is no cause for true concern until a week or two has passed with no change."

"Okay."

"When he does wake up, you're going to have to ensure he doesn't overexert himself. And make sure he doesn't do anything like this ever again."

"Trust me, I have _no_ intention of ever giving him the opportunity to repeat this."

The nurse smiled at him, somewhere between comforting and comforted, "You're good for him, Courfeyrac. I'm glad he's got you looking out for him."

She escorted him to the room where Combeferre was and shut the door as she left.

Courfeyrac called Enjolras as soon as he sat down.

"Is he okay? Has something happened?"

"Hi Enj, they just got back to me. He's stable but unconscious. They don't know when he'll wake up."

"We'll be there in ten."

"Sure thing. Bye."

He hung up, looking over at Combeferre. He was going into law, so he really didn't know what the various machines were doing. The beeping one, he was pretty sure, was a heart monitor, at least if television was trustworthy.

Combeferre himself looked pale, probably from insufficient blood. Courfeyrac ran a hand through his hair, which was damp with sweat from the pain and effort he'd expended keeping himself upright.

Courfeyrac honestly didn't know what he would do if Combeferre never woke up. He wasn't even sure what he would do if it took him a week. How was he supposed to go about his day when his mind would remain here, in this room? He'd known Combeferre since they were both four. Combeferre was a guiding light; without him, Courfeyrac felt the darkness creeping in around him. What would anything mean anymore?

A groan startled him out of his thoughts and his eyes snapped down to Combeferre's face. His eyes were blinking open, slowly. Courfeyrac gasped, standing to feel more useful since he knew there was nothing he could do but watch.

"Courf?" his voice was hoarse, but it was undeniably Combeferre who had spoken.

The darkness was banished once more.


End file.
